A Dickens of a Dream
by NoMoreThanUsual
Summary: A Twilight retelling of "A Christmas Carol." At 17, Bella leads a warm, dry, happy life in Arizona. Can a group of beautiful golden-eyed ghostly visitors lead her to her cold, wet destiny? co-written by blondie AKA robin and NoMoreThanUsual
1. Chapter 1

**A Dickens of a Dream**

**by blondie AKA robin and NoMoreThanUsual  
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**_Summary_:**

At seventeen, Bella had a warm, dry, happy life in Arizona with her mom and stepdad. Can a wayward thought, an old movie, and a group of breathtakingly beautiful, golden-eyed spirits lead her to her cold, wet destiny?

* A fanciful Twilight retelling of A Christmas Carol*

(And, really, who wouldn't prefer Edward to an ugly old ghost?!)

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**_Authors' Notes:_**

NoMoreThanUsual: Blondie contacted me a few weeks ago to suggest working together to write this idea that came to her while in church. And well, since we're both going to hell anyways and since it sounded like so much fun, how could I say no? LOL

In doing some research, I found Charles Dickens' original preface to his 1843 book interesting and oddly relevant.

_I have endeavored in the Ghostly little book to raise the Ghost of an Idea which shall not put my readers out of humor with themselves, with each other, with the season, or with me. May it haunt their house pleasantly, and no one wish to lay it._

The last line just makes me giggle!

blondie: Yes, twilght invades my every moment, it seems! Luckily my friend NoMoreThanUsual understands the obsession for all things twilight - even in Christmas. This is meant as canon...but since it's all a dream, we get to play just a little.

Since this first chapter is being posted on Christmas Eve, we'd like to wish everyone Happy Holidays!

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**Chapter 1: Marley's Ghost**

_Christmas Eve, 2004  
Scottsdale, Arizona_

"This is the last one, Bella, and it's from me." Mom handed me a small box wrapped in wrinkled paper I recognized from last year. She was nothing if not environmentally conscious.

"Mom, you've given me enough already." I waved at the small pile of books and clothes she and Phil had showered me with.

"Come on Bella, it's Christmas. Besides I made this one myself."

Carefully I unwrapped the present, wondering if it contained the results of Renée's latest failed endeavor, hydroponic gardening. It'd taken her six weeks to learn that living in a desert made water-based gardening a very complicated proposition.

Lifting the lid, I was pleasantly surprised to see the gift had come from her previous hobby, kachina doll carving. A small wooden statue greeted me – a man, presumably, dressed in a costume representing a bird, I guessed.

"Wow, Mom, thanks." I overlooked the uneven separation of the feathers and nervous squiggles in the paint and accepted the gift as a sincere token of my mom's love.

"It's an eagle dancer. I thought of you, growing up and spreading your wings, while I carved it." She sniffled. "You're getting so old."

I cringed. "Seventeen isn't old, Mom. Give me a break."

"Renée worked on that for three weeks, Bella. I've never seen her so intense before," Phil said, rubbing Mom's shoulders with the same mushy grin on his face I'd seen on too many of the teenagers at school this year.

_You missed her homemade paper phase, Phil. Now THAT was intense,_ I wanted to say, but just nodded instead. He'd only been part of our life for a couple of years so he'd missed a lot. As my mom's new husband, he was still catching up on what really excited my mom, hobby-wise, at least.

"Phil helped me pick out the colors for the costume," Renée added, batting her eyes at him.

With a mumbled "thanks to both of you" I added the doll to my little pile and prepared to pack-mule it into my room. One present remained under the tree, but I wouldn't open that one until tomorrow. Charlie had always insisted I open my presents on Christmas Day, and though I hadn't spent a Christmas with him in years, I still honored his tradition in this small way.

Charlie...with a guilty twinge I realized I hadn't called him yet. After I'd sent him this month's letter and gift – a 'Fly Fisherman's Friend' – I hadn't really given him a second thought. I grabbed the phone on my way out of the family room.

"Merry Christmas, Dad," I said when the ringing on the other end stopped.

"Same to you, Bells. Got your gift – it's real pretty under the tree." Charlie cleared his throat. We both knew he didn't have a tree. The little box was probably sitting next to the TV remote.

"Open it first thing, kay?" When Charlie wasn't working, he was fishing, and I figured he'd be going out tomorrow. _Christmas morning isn't special when you're alone,_ I thought with a pang.

"I always do," he said. "Wish you were here, hon. It's been a long time since you've visited Forks. Your room misses you."

Guilt washed through me. I loved my dad, but hated the cold, wet, backwoods town he lived in. "Has it stopped raining yet?" I asked with a half-hearted laugh.

"It's actually supposed to be sunny tomorrow, you know, and it hasn't snowed much this year." The noise in the background disappeared; he'd switched off the TV. "You're always welcome, you know that, don't you, Bells?"

Charlie was never one to push me into anything, but I could hear how much he missed me. "Careful, you might end up with a roommate," I joked.

"That would be a Christmas present," he mumbled. "Anytime," he said louder, to me. "I wouldn't get in your way."

No, he wouldn't. He and I both enjoyed our personal space.

The awkward silence lasted a few seconds too long as we both realized we'd run out of things to say – already.

"So I'll call you tomorrow afternoon, if that's all right. I expect some major gushing over your Christmas present," he chuckled.

"You bet, Dad. I love you."

"Love you too, Bells," he croaked.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I pushed the 'End' button. Charlie'd gotten the short end of the stick when it came to me – we only spent a couple of weeks together every year. He never complained, but I knew he wished for more time.

Truth be told, I did too. I just wish he lived some place dry.

I snuck back out to replace the phone, trying to avoid attracting Mom and Phil's attention. They were cuddled together on the couch, ignoring the grainy movie on TV.

"_Why did you get married?"_ a grumpy Scrooge intoned.

"_Because I fell in love,"_ was the reply.

"The time will go by so fast, you won't even miss me, baby," Phil said softly. He stroked Mom's hair. "You could come out for a week, couldn't you?"

Mom shook her head. "I can't leave Bella here alone."

"Renée, Bella is completely capable of taking care of herself for a week. It's you I worry about." Phil did know my mom well enough to understand she'd lose her right hand if it wasn't attached.

"_Are there no prisons?"_ Scrooge grumbled.

"I'd miss her too," Mom whimpered. "I'd worry."

The TV flickered. _"Plenty of prisons."_

I slunk back to my room, images of iron bars and black stripes filling my head. Was I imprisoning my mother? Phil was closer to my age than hers, but she loved him so much. I knew she was reliving her youth through the young baseball player, but she never had grown up, not really. My birth had taken away her twenties...and now she had a chance to experience them again.

I flopped down on my bed and counted the hand-painted stars on my ceiling. Phil at least had had the decency to keep his real desire quiet. I knew he wanted much more than a week out of my Mom. He wanted her to stay in Florida with him during training camp, and beyond, no doubt. But he hadn't even broached that subject with her, to the best of my knowledge.

Mom definitely could have done worse than Phil.

Seeing her torn between me and him made me feel like Scrooge. She'd never leave me here, though, and as a minor, my options were limited. Or were they? A ridiculous idea materialized.

From the rough-hewn frame on my nightstand, Charlie stared at me. "Anytime," he'd said. Did he truly mean it?

No, I couldn't move in with _him_. Go to live in that drippy, dank forest? All ten of the students at the tiny school would notice when I showed up – I _liked_ the invisibility of living in the big city. I couldn't remember if the town even had a library. And whoever said hell didn't have snowballs had never been to Forks.

With a quiet rap, my door cracked open. "We're calling it a night, Bella. Merry Christmas, baby." Mom tried to hide her red-rimmed eyes with a huge smile.

"Merry Christmas, Mom. I love you."

"See you in the morning. No peeking at your Santa presents," she scolded.

I hadn't believed in Santa Claus since I was four, but she still maintained the illusion. "Of course not." I'd keep my eyes closed when I put _her_ gift under the tree in the morning.

Was the travel votive set I'd gotten her an omen I'd missed?

Me, in Forks. To free Mom from the prison I'd created for her, I'd have to incarcerate myself.

I forced a smile onto my lips as she closed the door, then shut off my light. Escaping into sleep was a gift I'd indulge in tonight.

I knew I was dreaming when I opened my eyes and found myself in a nineteenth century bedchamber. The curtains hanging around my bed were dark and musty. The crackle of a nearby fire was interrupted by the clink of metal.

This wasn't my normal fantasy about Mr. Darcy, it seemed.

Happy to discover I was wearing my normal t-shirt and sweats, I fumbled around, trying to open the curtain and see what the noise was. The sound, and the bed, were familiar somehow, but I couldn't place them.

Finding the break in the curtain, I flopped onto the cold wood floor with a grunt.

"That was graceful," a soft, melodic voice teased gently. "You are, however, right on time."

At that moment loud, menacing chimes filled the room. As I collected myself and stood, I counted out twelve. Midnight, of course. I turned slowly to see who had invaded my dreamspace this night.

What greeted me was a glowing profile. Not quite a man, but not a boy, he stooped down toward the fire, a metal rod in his hand. The poker crashed against the grate and andirons as he stirred the blazing logs, sounding like chains banging together.

A single candle on the rickety wooden table and half-finished dinner next to it completed the scene for me.

"I'm Scrooge, aren't I?" I asked.

The poker disappeared from the ghostly guy's hand, seeming to have levitated back into its stand. He straightened up and turned on his heel.

"No, I don't think so, Bella. You look nothing like the crotchety old man Dickens envisioned." He straightened his surprisingly contemporary Oxford shirt, but my eyes were glued to his face. His hair, gilded in molten copper, mimicked the flames, rising and dancing above his strong forehead. But it was his eyes that held me. His golden eyes seemed to burn like the fire behind him, set in his deathly pale face.

He was fantastically beautiful.

"You're not...exactly Marley...either," I said, my voice cracking twice. "No chains?"

He chuckled, and the sound sent ripples of warmth through my chest. "No, not exactly. But damnation comes in many forms." His sculpted lips turned down in a heart-rending frown. "But that's not why you're here."

"I was wondering about that." I may not be the most socially adept person, but "Bah, humbug" had never left my lips. I didn't even scold my mother for having given me too many presents this year – okay, maybe just a little.

"What do you know of love, Bella?" My beautiful Marley picked up the fork lying on the table and fiddled with the gray substance filling the plate.

His fingers were so smooth and graceful.

"Um...love?" What kind of dream was this? Love? I looked at the fire, like it could give me a clue. Dancing in the orange and red was a hazing image of Renée and Phil, holding hands. More pieces fell into place. "I get it – Phil and Mom. I thought myself Scrooge for making Mom choose between me and him."

"Who's Phil?" the ghost asked, having lost interest in dissecting the 'meal.' He wasn't very informed, it seemed, but with a face like that, I'd forgive him anything.

"My stepdad." He cocked his head, confused, and I waved my hand, erasing the thought. "It doesn't matter, don't worry about it. The real question is: Who are you?" I looked a little closer, and realized I couldn't see through him. "Are you a ghost come to tell me that if I loved my mother I'd move away?" My imagination had gone haywire, clearly.

Marley laughed louder this time, and a delicious tingling covered my skin. "A ghost...that's a new one." He regarded me for a moment. "I suppose that's about as good as anything. This is all a dream anyway, right?"

"Right," I said, breathless. _Please let me remember him, please let me remember him,_ I chanted.

"Actually, I'm not certain why I'm here. My sister said I was at a crossroads. Maybe _you're_ supposed to help _me_."

It was my turn to giggle. "Help you what? I can't do anything – I'm pretty much invisible."

His nostrils flared and the smile disappeared. "Nonsense. A person would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not recognize you as an angel." Before I could argue, a completely incongruous buzz filled the room. The ghost reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone.

What kind of dream was this?

"Yes," he said into the shiny object, irritated. "That seems trite don't you think? ... Very well ... You'll see that she's kept safe?" His lips thinned. "I understand." The phone vanished. "You're not going to believe this," he started.

Suddenly I had to touch him, and rested my hand on his sleeve. Like an ice cube wrapped in a towel, cold radiated out through the fabric, but I didn't flinch. "Sure I will, it's my dream." I smiled up at him, hoping he'd smile back.

With a crooked smirk he pulled away. "Okay, Scrooge, your dream." He took a deep breath, and in a low, hallow voice said, "You will be haunted by three spirits." Sweeping his arm around regally, I expected him to take a bow after delivering such a corny line.

I laughed instead.

"I'm doing my best here," he complained, but grinned.

I tried to put on a serious face. "Sorry. Let me guess, Christmas past, present, and future, right?" Future...would I see my dead self? My _old_ self? I shivered.

The ghost took blurry step toward me. He was incredibly fast.

"Don't worry, Bella, this _is_ just a dream. I don't think any of us knows what it means, and none of it's real." His alabaster hand rose to my face, but stopped before he touched me. I could feel the chill of his skin from inches away, but I felt comforted, none the less.

"Okay," I murmured.

A soft, genuine, smile curled his lips. "Good. I think you know the drill." He glanced at the huge grandfather clock in the corner. "And my time is up."

"Wait! Will I see you again?" Dream or not, I didn't want him to go.

His gaze fell to the floor. "I don't know. I'm not..." The buzzing of his cell phone interrupted him again. "I guess I'm saying too much." The vibrating stopped.

He walked over to the bed and parted the curtain with a flourish. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Bella."

Reluctantly, I climbed back into bed. "It was nice to meet you too. I hope I see you again...what was your...?"

The curtains closed and the clock chimed once. "Goodbye," I whispered.

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	2. Chapter 2:The First of the Three Spirits

_A/N: __blondie__: Thanks for all the reviews...one thing we forgot to mention is that this will be a 5 part short story, just like Dickens' tale. I know several of you have guessed at who will represent the ghosts of past, present and future...that question should be answered here._

_As to what Bella's supposed to be dreaming about exactly...that may remain a mystery a bit longer!_

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**Chapter 2: The First of the Three Spirits**

**_1 a.m. Christmas Morning - maybe_**

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Without a sound, the ghost was gone, or so I thought. I stared at the dank curtains, wondering whether I should try and go back to sleep or not.

"Shhhh, you'll wake her," a woman's voice said. She sounded like a spring day, airy and warm.

"I think that's the point, dear." The man's voice was lower than the first ghost. Was Marley still here?

As I reviewed Dickens' tale and tried to fit my first visitor's comments about love into the story, the curtain at the foot of the bed moved.

"Bella? Would you join us please?" The man wasn't impatient, but there was authority in his voice.

I didn't fall out of bed this time, but stumbled when I saw the couple locked arm in arm by the window. Even dressed in modern designer clothes, I recognized Snow White and her handsome Prince. With the same ethereal paleness and fiery gold eyes as Marley before her, Snow White was lovely with her long caramel hair and perfect figure, while the Prince was debonair in his tailored suit complete with pocket square. His hair was lighter than I remembered from the Disney animation, but the golden blond made him that much more stunning. Dickens never could have imagined such beautiful creatures.

"Good morning, dear," Snow White said in a motherly tone. "We're sorry to disturb you so early."

The ghost was apologizing to me?

"Um, that's all right, I don't think I'm really awake anyway."

The Prince chuckled warmly. "Such a perceptive girl. Shall we go?" A subtle British accent tickled his speech.

"Go?" I kneaded the bottom of my ratty t-shirt. "Oh, yeah, the Christmas past." I shook my head, like I'd be able to make any sense of the situation if I rattled my brain cells a bit. "There's two of you?"

The ghosts looked at each other and shrugged. "It's your dream," they said in unison.

"Right." Whatever had spawned this fantasy obviously wasn't paying much attention to the tenants of 'A Christmas Carol.' I hoped that one thing did remain true to the story. "No one can see us, right?"

"No, they can't see us, Bella. But you can wear this, if it would make you more comfortable." A long chocolate-colored robe appeared in Snow White's hands. "I think the color suits you."

I loved brown. It was the opposite of green in my opinion, warm and arid versus cool and humid. "Thank you."

The Prince wrapped one arm around his Princess while I slipped on the robe. Snow White smiled up at her mate, her eyes filled with love. Although there was nothing overtly demonstrative in their exchange, it was inarguably apparent that they were like jigsaw puzzle pieces, fitting together perfectly – the ideal fairytale couple.

When I'd tied the robe shut, the Prince turned back to me and held his hand out.

"Shall we?"

His ice-cold skin didn't surprise me, but he seemed astonished when I didn't react. "You are quite remarkable, Bella. I can see why..."

Snow White cleared her throat, chastising him. "We're here."

While I'd been staring up at the Prince's face, we'd apparently been transported out of the ancient bedroom. The wood paneling and bed were gone, replaced by a couch and three-foot tall Christmas tree. The fireplace, on the opposite wall, was cold and dark, and out the picture window I saw nothing but trees. Green trees. We were at Charlie's house in Forks...but when? It was exactly the way I remembered it, except a few pictures were missing.

"Let's go see what Santa brought you, my sweet Bella!"

"Mom? Is that you?" I asked, my head drooping in embarrassment. "Sorry, I forgot."

Snow White and her Prince laughed, until Mom swept into the room. I caught my breath – she was so young and her hair was long, like mine. We could have been twins, but for the bald baby cradled in her arms.

"Do you have the camera, Charlie?" she called behind her.

My dad appeared in the doorway, more cheerful than I'd ever seen him. I'd always known he'd never stopped loving Mom, but to see his adoration on display, rather than hidden away, made me both happy and sad.

He set the camera down on the tiny table between the couch and arm chair and lifted Baby Me out of Renée's arms. "Come to Daddy, Bells." I expected him to be tentative, nervous about holding a baby, but he was just the opposite. Laying the infant – me – against his shoulder, he walked with a bounce, and Baby Me bubbled over with laughter.

"She's Daddy's girl." Mom smiled and picked up the camera. "Smile, you two!"

The morning progressed just the way I'd always imagined 'normal' families had Christmas. Presents were opened, kisses and hugs shared. What surprised me most was how Charlie never let go of Baby Me. He sat her – rather, me – on his lap and opened the presents in front of the baby, talking and cooing the whole time. I'd never seen him so loving or so...fatherly.

Baby Me was more interested in the wrapping paper than the stacking rings or toy farm animals. Only one present managed to get my – Baby Me's – attention: a shiny silver spoon.

"Oh, wow, I can't believe Mom gave this to her," Charlie murmured when he opened the box. "This has been in our family for generations."

"Do you remember when you gave that spoon to Marie at her christening?" Snow White asked. I'd forgotten the ghosts were here.

The Prince smiled. "It's held up well over the years."

Marie...Gran Marie? "Did you know my Gran?"

The Prince shook his head. "Not really, she was just a baby. You actually looked a lot like her."

I winced...the last time I'd seen Gran – alive – she'd been more wrinkled than a prune and barely able to walk. When was she born? I counted back on mental fingers...1940?...1930?...but the Prince interrupted me.

"Your parents are so happy," he said, his eyes drifting from the small family on the floor to the scrawny tree. Mom stroked Charlie's hair, thanking him for the rustic frame he'd given her.

"Yeah, they were." I couldn't remember seeing Mom and Charlie together like this – they'd split before I'd formed any lasting memories.

Charlie finally gave Baby Me back to Mom when she sat down next to him, the presents all opened, the tree empty. He whispered something to her, and they kissed passionately while Baby Me grabbed at the buttons on Mom's shirt. I had to look away, knowing two years after this I would be spending Christmas alone with Mom in a Riverside apartment.

"I'm not trying to be rude, but what deep lesson am I supposed to take from this scene? I was too young to actually influence what happened." I inspected the wedding photo on the mantel. I wondered if it was still there, back in reality.

"Nothing in particular, dear. We just thought you'd like to see your father again. You seemed to be missing him." Snow White brushed my hair back over my shoulder. "Familial love has an enduring strength."

The Prince squeezed her hand.

"You have children then?"

"Yes, we are very fortunate," he said, "but no family is without its challenges."

I looked at the couple, their hands locked together. They couldn't understand what had happened to my parents.

Outside, the window, the sun went supernova and then dark. While my eyes adjusted, my ears told me exactly what happened. Whatever my guides were, spirits, ghosts, or more likely demons, they had taken me to a different day in the past. One that had nothing to do with Christmas or celebration.

Renée stood at the door, struggling to hold what was now a toddler version of me. "It didn't work out." She shifted me to her other arm, trapping my hand when it reached out toward Charlie. Stepping out into the rain, she cursed. "I really, _really_ hate Forks."

The door closed, and Charlie's quiet sobs mixed with Snow White's. They both faded as he slowly trudged up the stairs.

"Gee, thanks. I needed to see _that_," I said sarcastically.

The Prince gently held his wife's hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles to comfort her. "Both of your parents were trying to do what's right for you."

"Your mother left to give you the best life she could, and your father didn't argue for the same reason," Snow White said through sniffles.

_Maybe he should have._ I swallowed the retort – blaming Charlie for Mom's desertion was ridiculous. "Yeah, it's a real fairytale, my life."

"Fairytales are few and far between," Snow White said. "We do know something of loss – of losing a child – and of letting them go." She looked up at the Prince with resignation in her eyes.

The Prince scowled. "Are you sure?"

Snow White nodded, and the scene around us blurred. Day became night, and the same couple standing next to me also stood across what seemed to be a parlor. This new version of the ghosts was dressed in the garb from a century ago – twenties or thirties I guessed, seeing Snow White's low-waisted flapper dress. The Prince's suit had thin, pleated pants that showed his socks, and he wrung his hat between his hands.

It was the new addition to our group that had my heart racing.

Magnificent Marley was back, and looking as handsome as ever in a tweed suit and matching fedora. His clothes registered in my brain as an afterthought; it was his face that caught my attention. I took a step back when I saw the anger distorting his pale features.

"Who _is_ he?" I barely breathed.

"Our eldest," the Prince said, the amber in his eyes shadowed with grief. Eldest? The Prince looked like Marley's older brother, not his father.

His counterpart from the past wore the exact same mournful expression.

_Exactly_ the same.

Staring at the newest versions of the Christmas Past couple, I confirmed that, like Marley, they too bore the hallmarks of the ghosts they were now – the pallor, their magical gold eyes. This was not a scene from their mortal lives; the actors here were as inhuman as they were now. Even in this age, decades in the past, Marley and the Royals were ghosts. I didn't understand. When had they _lived_? Were they _ever_ mortal?

Marley paced in front of us, his fingers raking viciously through his messy hair, his fury barely leashed and utterly terrifying. "I'm tired of living this way, with all these rules. Your preaching and morals have nothing to do with me. I'm leaving."

The 1900's Prince's eyes were dark with sorrow. He didn't say anything, but stared intently at his son. In some ways he resembled the Charlie we'd witnessed just moments before.

Both versions of Snow White sniffled in unison and leaned closer to their Princes.

"Will you ever come home?" the historic version sobbed.

The beautiful ghost seemed more like the boy than the man when he sneered, "I don't think so."

"You'll always be welcome here," Past Prince said to Marley's back. I thought I saw Marley hesitate, just for an instant, before slamming the door behind him.

I stumbled backward, scared stiff. My mom was furious at Charlie for a long time after she left, but eventually became more or less ambivalent toward him. I couldn't see Marley doing the same. Stunned, I blurted out the obvious. "He's so angry."

"Yes, he was," modern Snow White said. "But he did come back – on Christmas morning, in fact."

An unseen flashbulb went off and we found ourselves in a dimly lit forest unlike those of the Northwest. The trees here were shorter and crowded together, all bare of leaves. Only the snow on the ground gave any indication that it might be December.

A similar version of Snow White waited in the woods, wearing a softer, flowery dress, unsuited for winter. She squinted at the trees, rising to her toes in anticipation, then falling back when nothing happened. With a slow, measured pace, Marley appeared from the tree line, his hat in his hand. He reached for the top of his mile-wide tie, not seeing Snow White rush to him faster than I'd ever seen anyone run.

"You're home!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He returned the hug. "If you'll have me."

I couldn't help but smiling. When a second Prince appeared and held his hand out to his son, I was the one sniffling. "Welcome home, Son," he said. They clasp hands, then hugged.

"How long was he gone?" I asked, trying to dislodge the emotion clogging my throat.

"Five years," the modern Prince answered. "Understand, Bella, he didn't just leave us, he left our way of life and all we believe. It was the longest five years of my life." His regret rang loud and clear, and his Snow White held him tight.

"You forgave him then?" The family from the past remained silent, or so I thought. Their lips moved like they were speaking, but I heard nothing. Soon all three were smiling, their teeth gleaming in the gloomy haze.

The Prince looked down at me with surprise. "Of course. He's our son. We'd do anything for him. We love him." His tawny eyes softened. "Just like your parents love you, Bella."

I knew both Renée and Charlie loved me, but even if Charlie wanted me to move in with him, would Renée let me go?

Snow White's cool hand touched my shoulder. "You're facing a decision not unlike this, aren't you, my dear?"

"You don't know? I thought you were supposed to be guiding me toward a choice. Teaching me a parable or something."

"_These were shadows of the things that have been...They are what they are..._ You mean that kind of thing?" the Prince said facetiously. I nodded. "It's true, these are just memories. But you know that those who don't learn from the past –"

"Are doomed to repeat it. Yeah, I know. But this isn't _my_ past."

"True, but it is _his_." A quiet rendition of Debussy's Clair de Lune emanated from the Prince's jacket. Producing a cell phone exactly like Marley's, he opened the display and smiled. "I'm being reminded that history is fixed. How your history fits with his remains to be seen. We," he tilted his head toward Snow White, "can only show you what was, not speculate on what will be. That's not within our purview." He pocketed the phone and crooked an elbow toward his wife.

Snow White caught his arm. "It was very nice to meet you, Bella. Perhaps we'll see you again," she said and pulled the Prince back, away from me. They were leaving..._without me!_

We were still standing in the forest somewhere – I didn't even know what state we were in!

"Wait..."

A bird screeched overhead – an eagle, I thought. But did it have a man's legs?

The Prince held out his hand and I grabbed it. "Yes, Bella, it was a pleasure."

"You can't _go_, I don't even know where I am!" Panicking, I refused to let go of his smooth, frigid fingers.

"Trust yourself," he said, then disappeared in a blinding flash.

The screams of the bird became the shrill chirping of my alarm as it flashed 2:00 in my face. I was in my own bed...or was I? Blue walls and yellowing curtains slowly came into focus.

Something..._rain_...pounded overhead. No, this wasn't home.

I was in Forks. The dream-slash-nightmare wasn't over yet.

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**Authors' End Note**: **NoMoreThanUsual**: The idea of Edward in a fedora has me all tingly! I haven't been able to think straight since Blondie suggested it! The mental pictures have been, uh, _distracting_ – to say the least! Haha … Edward in a fedora…Edward's hair all messy after taking off a fedora…Edward in a bathtub wearing ONLY a fedora…oh the possibilities… :D


	3. Chapter3:The Second of the Three Spirits

**Authors' Note: NoMoreThanUsual****:** _I should apologize for the late post. To those who follow my stories, it will come as no surprise to learn that it's all my fault. LOL. On the plus side, we've got Chapters 4 & 5 well underway._

_I'm __also sorry to say there are no fedoras in this chapter. Believe me, I tried to work them in. Oh, well, Fedoraward lives on in my fantasies. LOL _

_Thank you for the reviews. You guys are awesome!_

_Hope you enjoy Christmas Present._

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**Chapter 3: The Second of the Three Spirits**

**_2 a.m. – in Bella's mind, anyway_**

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"Bella! Good to meet you!" A huge, pasty face suddenly appeared inches above my head.

I jumped, hitting my head as I crashed against the wall. "Who the hell are you?" I cried.

"Nice going, you just scared her to death. She's as white as you are, you big oaf," a female voice complained. Great, another couple. I couldn't see the woman; the guy, bigger than any WWE wrestler I'd ever seen, filled my entire field of vision.

He smiled, exposing a huge set of really sharp-looking teeth. "Aw, she's okay, aren't ya, Bella?" He threw a hand the size of a baseball mitt toward me. My arm automatically came up to shield me from the blow and I shut my eyes.

"Let me help you up," the Hulk said.

I opened my eyes slowly to find his hand motionless in front of me. My fingers trembled as I set them in his.

_Dream_, I told myself. _This is only a very, very strange dream. _The Hulk was surprisingly gentle as he pulled me to my feet. I eyed him up and down, trying to make sense of my odd companion.

"You have never seen the like of me before!" he bellowed, his grin firmly in place.

"P-please tell me you don't have eighteen h-hundred brothers," I stammered, hoping the dream didn't follow Dickens too closely.

"Would that scare you?" he said with a laugh.

I pulled my hand back, my head bobbing up and down. "Definitely."

"No worries, then, I only have two brothers – and you've already met one." His eyebrows wiggled up and down above bright topaz eyes. My newest ghosts had arrived.

I didn't know how I knew, but he meant my first visitor, the copper-haired Marley. "You mean you're his brother? What's his...," I started to ask, curious about his real name.

"Let's get this show on the road. I want to see what I'm getting for Christmas!" the woman whined. The Hulk backed off enough for me to see his companion. The view had me wanting to climb back into bed and never come out.

As indescribably beautiful as my lonely Marley was, she was the female equivalent. Like she'd jumped out of a pinup poster, the Lana Turner look-alike's hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulder. With high cheek bones and full lips, her 36-24-36 figure was clothed in a hip-hugging pencil skirt and an elegant white silk blouse reminiscent of the 50's.

The Hulk was dressed in khaki pants and a white Oxford shirt which clung to him, emphasizing the muscles of his chest and his massive shoulders. His black curls were just long enough to brush his collar. I couldn't decide if he belonged on the cover of GQ or Sports Illustrated. "I already did the past, guys, so you can go back to where ever you came from." I tried to inch back toward my blankets.

"The past? Give me a break. We're all about the here and now. I thought Dad said she was smart," Lana sneered. In an instant she was by my side. "Let's go."

I held my breath and closed my eyes, wondering where I'd end up next.

"Is she okay?" the Hulk asked.

"Beats me. I'm outta here."

I heard a click and a squeak and opened my eyes. We were still in my room in Forks.

Lana Turner had opened the door and disappeared down the stairs.

My mouth dropped open. "No flash?"

The Hulk snorted. "Pffft. We're not that dramatic." He waved a paw toward the hallway. "After you."

Charlie's bedroom door was open and the room was empty, so I followed the clicking of Lana's heels down the dark staircase. The TV was on in the living room, and I heard coffee perking in the kitchen. Strangely, I couldn't smell it.

"Yes, I'm heading over right now..._Yes_, I patched the boat...NO, I don't have anymore worms." Charlie took a sip of coffee and muttered _freeloader_ to himself. He pulled the phone back up to his mouth. "Fine, Jacob can come. But if he's not dressed and ready to go when I get there, he's staying home. See you in twenty." He clicked off the phone and dropped it on the couch before going over to the TV.

I'd been wrong, Charlie did have a tree – a two-foot tall plastic shrub with about a dozen colored balls hanging from it. He set his coffee down, and carefully picked up the box wrapped in striped paper sitting next to it.

"Merry Christmas, Bells," he whispered.

Before I could feel guilty about the fact I'd spent only five minutes ordering the gift online, the Hulk cut the silence with an exaggerated "AAAAWWWW."

A bored sigh followed the outburst, but I ignored both.

Charlie shook the box gently before flipping it over and ripping the paper. Renée would be shocked at the waste as he shredded the red and green covering. He threw the wrapping aside and opened the box.

"_Yes_!" He pumped his fist in the air. "Thanks, Bells," he said, looking right at me and smiling. For a moment I wondered if he could see me.

Grinning, the Hulk pantomimed wildly swinging a baseball bat. "Homerun!" he yelled loudly. "You scored with that one, Bella!" he congratulated me.

Lana looked minutely interested in the silver filling Charlie's palm. "What is it?"

"It's a 'Fly Fisherman's Friend'," I said proudly. "Twenty-nine tools essential for every serious fly fisherman in one, compact, waterproof package."

Charlie looked in the box again and let out another "Perfect!"

"Complete with a floatation keychain to keep it from sinking," I finished as he connected the bright orange sponge to the ring on the handle.

"Wow, that's cool," the Hulk said, leaning over Charlie's shoulder to see the 29-in-1 tool a little better. "It even has a toothpick," he said with a guffaw.

"Whatever," Lana said, spinning around to face the fireplace like she'd just strutted down the runway. "This is you, I presume."

I tore my eyes off of Charlie as he opened and closed different blades and bottle-openers to see what she was talking about. The mantel, which had been empty in the previous part of my dream, was now filled with my school pictures. They showed the evolution of dentistry I'd experienced, along with a raft of outdated hairdos. Was it first grade when Renée got the Flowbee?

My throat tightened slightly at the sight of those photos lined up like Russian dolls, each girl slightly larger than her neighbor. They stood like mute memorials, each one a silent witness to another year of my self-imposed exile from my father. His grief at losing his wife and child were starkly displayed before me, though in all my childhood visits, I'd somehow missed the significance of those pictures.

Feeling uncomfortable, I turned back to my dad, watching him unfold the different screwdrivers, one by one, from the 29-in-1's handle. I studied him, trying to read his thoughts as he handled the present I'd sent from fifteen hundred miles away. He was clearly delighted with my gift, but I worried what he felt about my absence. His face revealed nothing. I wished I could have brought my gift to him in person. If only he didn't live in _Forks_.

Remembering that Lana was still waiting for my answer, my eyes flicked back to her. "Yeah, that's me."

Lana's appraising glare seemed to shrink me down to nothing. I crossed my arms, as if that could shield me from her penetrating gaze. "Well, at least you grew into your teeth."

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger. She used the same condescending tone that the 'popular' people at school used when someone like me got in their way. Clearly we had nothing in common – how could she understand anything about me or my family?

Lana huffed at my reaction. "They're just pictures. Get a grip," she grumbled before turning away and sashaying over to the window. Almost absently she looked out onto the front yard.

Ignoring her, the Hulk smiled knowingly at me and draped his tree-trunk of an arm around my shoulder. Neither Renée nor Charlie were demonstrative and physical contact like this would normally make me uncomfortable, but the Hulk's show of support seemed natural coming from him – almost brotherly.

"Aw, Bella was a cute kid," he said, bobbing his chin toward one of the earliest pictures. Another Christmas morning. My one-year-old self sat on Charlie's knee, wearing a red velvet Christmas dress, my dark curls brushing the white lace collar. Dad wrapped an arm around me while he pointed towards the camera with the other hand, trying to draw my toddler attention in the right direction. Instead I was laughing up at him, trying to thrust my new plastic horse into his line of vision. My mother was pressed in beside us, having successfully outrun the camera's timer. Laughter danced in both their eyes, the happiness of the moment caught forever on film.

Lana Turner's contempt dulled to a dark scowl. "I suppose," she murmured, causing the Hulk to let go of me and gently take her hand. He said nothing, but when their amber eyes met, an unspoken understanding passed between them.

Charlie seemed to feel the shift in mood and came to stand beside them, surveying the pictures. He and Mom never shared the bond that these spirits kindled, and he sighed. "I'm glad you're happy, sweetheart," he said.

Something in my chest lurched painfully. I'd known that my hatred of Forks was an excuse to stay away – but I'd always figured that Charlie didn't _want_ me cluttering his quiet life. In one simple statement he'd shown me how wrong I'd been.

The Hulk suddenly grinned. "See, babe," he said facing me, though clearly addressing Lana. "They're not 'just pictures.' She's starting to _see_."

The way he said "see" made me wonder what exactly he meant. I looked at him, my eyes widening, silently imploring him to explain.

His smile was kind and full of understanding. "You're sad. You can see the path your father has chosen to walk. And never forget, Bella, it's a choice. All of life is a choice – every day, every moment... Choices to be alone or to embrace others, to live in the moment or to let the moment slip away. Charlie's choosing to live in the past, in the realm of 'Could-have-been.' That's a land of regret and sorrow, no matter how appealing it promises to be."

He studied my face trying to gauge if I understood him. I nodded as if I did, though the ephemeral concept seemed to turn to smoke and slip away. What decisions had my father made that led him to this point? Was it the choice to let my mother go? The choice not to follow us south afterwards? Or to wait in Forks in the ashes of the life we had, in the hopes my mother or I would come back? If I were in his place, would I do the same? Who knew, maybe he was right. Maybe I would come back to him. I wondered what path my own decisions would lead me down.

Unaware of our discussion, my dad turned and walked to the kitchen. He laid his 29-in-1 on the counter while he refilled his mug.

"Are we done here?" Lana huffed, moving to gaze out of the small window on the front door.

Charlie sipped his coffee and sorted through his tackle box on the kitchen table, making space for his newest fishing toy.

I started to reach for him, wanting to stay, to spend time with my dad, to make up for some of the time we'd lost.

"Don't worry, Bells," the Hulk said, easily adopting my father's nickname for me. Somehow it didn't feel strange coming from this cheerful but gigantic ghost. "You can call your father later. He'll tell you how much he loves your gift. Hell, I might pop by later and watch him use it. Maybe he can show me what all the excitement is about with fly-fishing. I never did get the appeal. All that _waiting_ for a just a little action," he said, shaking his head. "I'd rather something that puts up a fight, something that _knows_ you're hunting it and wants to hunt you back." He grinned widely at me, waggling his eyebrows, as if I'd have a clue what he was talking about. He didn't seem to notice the blood draining from my face as his teeth flashed like razors in the sunlight. I hoped he knew I wouldn't fight back either.

Without another word, he clapped his hands in exuberance, turned to Lana and said boisterously, "Yep, baby, let's blow this Popsicle stand."

She rolled her eyes and yanked the front door open. "Come on, we're late," she snapped as she stepped through. Whether she was speaking to me or to the Hulk, I didn't know.

Regardless, I walked through the doorway after her.

Strangely – _although was there really anything left to single out as 'strange' in this dream?_ – Charlie's front door no longer led to the yard. Instead, in crossing the threshold, we found ourselves back in my living room in Scottsdale. And we weren't alone. Mom and Phil sat cuddling on the sofa, while another me, wearing the same sweats and shirt, sat cross-legged on the floor next to the decorated tree. It was clearly Christmas morning, wrapping paper and discarded ribbon lay scattered on the floor in haphazard piles. A small mound of Santa gifts lay beside Mom, Phil and Other Me. There was also a brand new portable CD player sitting next to my twin. Was that my gift from Charlie? _Wow, Dad, _I thought, pleased with his choice.

A movement in my peripheral vision drew my attention. It was Lana leaning closer to better see the mass of ornaments on our small tree. Mom tended to go crazy decorating it every year and had kept every decoration that she or I ever made. I think I could even make out a few new kachina carvings, possibly her earlier attempts before making my eagle-man.

Stepping around me, the Hulk ambled across the room and flopped onto the remaining armchair with a loud sigh of contentment. "I love Christmas," he declared. Lana perched gracefully on his knee, leaving me standing awkwardly in the center of my home.

All of my companions had paired off, leaving me – both Me's – alone. It was unsettling.

My mother's voice interrupted my self-pity. "Go on, Bella. Open the last one. What else did Santa give you?"

Both Me's snorted in amusement at Mom's insistence on continuing to pretend I believed in Santa.

The Hulk leaned forward, as excited as Renée. "Whadja get, whadja get, whadja get?" he chanted excitedly.

Lana inspected her fingernails.

"Um, ok" was Other Me's articulate reply to our mother. I envied how Charlie had ripped his present open as I watched my twin carefully slide her finger under the edge of the paper and unfold it, rather than tearing it. After fumbling awkwardly, Other Me managed to get it undone and avoided cutting herself on the paper edges, a hazard that was common in the Dwyer household at Christmas and birthdays.

Mom and Phil wore similar grins but for different reasons. Mom was delighted to watch my face as her gifts were unveiled. She could barely contain her excitement after weeks of anticipation and preparation. Phil's amusement was partly at Renée's enthusiasm but also in part a shared joke with me, knowing how we both felt about having to preserve the paper. I could see the twinkle in his eyes as he watched the Other Bella work carefully with the wrapping.

Finally, the 'Ho Ho Ho' paper fell away and revealed the dark blue, soft-cover book inside. From my position by the door, I could see the book's front showed a white dove with its wings outstretched and I could make out the words "Inspirational Quotes" in large red script. I rolled my eyes and expected my other self to do the same. The book promised to be the artsy-fartsy stuff that Renée loved. Other Bella frowned and examined the book cover closely, her expression intent.

"A book?!" the Hulk cried, clearly disappointed.

"Oh! What a coincidence!" Mom gushed. "It looks like Santa and I were on the same wavelength. Look, we were both thinking about my little girl growing up and stretching her wings." She declared this in a "great minds think alike" manner, as if the contents of the present were a surprise. Clearly my mother's calling was not acting. I barely contained another eye roll.

Other Me laughed gently and said, "Thanks, Mom…er, I mean, thanks, Santa."

Both Phil and the Hulk laughed, but Mom could only elbow her husband. Lana helped her out by smacking the Hulk's head with a resounding crack.

"Hey baby," he whined, rubbing the back of his head. "C'mon, it's cute. Bella's mom still trying to make her believe in Santa and treating her like a little kid? That's just funny, Hon," he cajoled, wrapping his enormous arm around her and drawing her close.

Heeding my mom's chastisement, Phil pressed his lips together, though still laughing silently, and gently kissed Mom's hair. She nuzzled closer to his chest.

Lana followed suit, resting her cheek on the Hulk's shoulder. Her affection was tainted by something else...regret?

I followed her line of sight and tried to follow her reasoning as well. She looked close to tears, when moments ago she'd seemed invincible. Staring at Mom, Phil and the other me, she bit her perfect bottom lip. To me, it looked like any normal family Christmas. I wondered briefly about their own family – hers and the Hulk's. Did they have kids too? Snow White and the Prince did, so apparently ghosts could have children. I bet they were beautiful, what with the Hulk's dark curls and dimples mixed with Lana's utter perfection. And didn't the Hulk say that Marley was his brother? Wait, that made Snow White and the Prince his parents...that was some gene pool.

Turning away from the Kodak moment, Lana hid her face in her husband's neck while he stroked her hair soothingly.

Mom pulled back from Phil in order to kiss him quickly on the lips.

"I'll, um, clean up and make us some brunch. Pancakes sound good?" Other Me stood up awkwardly, clearly feeling uncomfortable with our parents' PDA.

"Pancakes sound lovely," Mom answered.

I watched Bella scoop up her Santa presents, her new CD player and the gift wrap around her, before retreating to the kitchen.

I followed her, equally uncomfortable in staying alone with Phil and my mother. Or with the Hulk and Lana for that matter.

As I watched Other Me begin to take out the ingredients and the griddle, I heard the click of Lana's heels behind me. I turned to speak to her and nearly bounced face first off the Hulk's chest. _Jeez, for a big guy, he sure moves quietly._

His hands shot out to steady me before I could rebound straight onto the floor.

"You okay, Bells?" he asked, still using my dad's nickname. "You – both Yous! – flew out of there like you saw a ghost!" He guffawed at his own joke, until Lana slapped him on the arm. "Aw, honey, what'd ya hit me for?" he whined again while rubbing his arm as if she'd hurt him. I doubted she could, even if she wanted to, he was so monstrously huge. Then I caught the angry flash in her eyes and realized she probably _could_ damage him. She looked downright scary at the moment.

"Quit being an idiot," she scolded him in a harsh tone. She turned her angry eyes towards me and I flinched. "You stop being an idiot too," she snarled.

"I'm sorry?" I half-asked, cringing away from her.

She didn't speak at first, her amber eyes glowing in the early morning light. "The faster you _get_ this, the faster I can go home."

"I'm trying," I squeaked. "Really. But I can't change any of this, can I?"

Lana's lip curled in a menacing sneer. If I died in my dream, would I wake up?

"It's your life. Of course you can change it. And every decision has consequences." Her fury disappeared as fast as it had ignited. "Even something as trivial as deciding which street to walk down can change your life."

Her mercurial emotions not only scared me, they confused me. Were her bi-polar-like mood shifts supposed to be another clue?

I stared up at her, mute.

Seeing my confusion, Lana's superior indignation returned. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Undaunted, the Hulk just chuckled and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Relax, babe. She's getting it. Give her a minute." Turning to me, he asked, "So, Bells, what have we learned here today?"

"Uh…that I'm getting a CD player for Christmas? And a book on inspirational quotes?" I suggested, doubtful that it was the answer he was looking for.

"Yeah, the book I just don't get," he laughed, ignoring Lana's contemptuous snort. "Well, don't worry about it, Bells. I think after the next stop you'll figure it out."

"We're leaving? Thank God," Lana breathed and marched over to the front door. Jerking it open, she swept regally through and out of my sight.

"Great. Another door to the unknown," I grumbled, not taking one step towards the open doorway. I was getting really tired of this dream and its deeper meanings that I couldn't seem to decipher.

"C'mon, Bella," the Hulk teased. "Don't be a chicken." When I still hesitated, he smirked and said, "I'll protect you. Scout's honor!" He even held up his fingers in the club's traditional manner.

I snorted. "_You_ were a Boy Scout?" I asked him dubiously.

"Well, no. But I'd have made a helluva Eagle Scout, doncha think?" he replied, his eyebrows dancing again.

I couldn't help the giggles. His silly manner easily chased away my fears. With the Hulk's reassuring presence beside me, I stepped through the door.

The room we entered was one I'd never seen before. The entire lower floor of the house was open, except for a curving staircase that reached upwards to the second floor. Through the windows that covered the entire back wall of the house, I could see the sun rising, golden light chasing the darkness away, leaving cheerful pink trails in the morning sky.

Exuberant but tasteful Christmas decorations were everywhere. A stunning Christmas tree – _it must have been 20 feet tall_ – dominated one corner, trimmed with crystal snowflake prisms that reflected tiny rainbows throughout the living room. Twinkle lights played peek-a-boo through cedar bows along the mantle and the staircase railing. Period figurines of Santas and antique Father Christmases, together with sleighs, reindeers, and elves covered almost every flat surface. But while Renée's overuse of decorations looked excessive and crowded, the generous use of trimming in this home created an air of refined taste, quiet luxury and wealth. The effect overwhelmed the senses. Eight people gathered in a lose semi-circle, leaving the tree as the focal point.

"Well, don't be shy, Bella. Come in," the Hulk said from behind me, pushing me slightly forward with his hand on my back.

I stumbled a bit and walked further into the circle of light thrown by the tree and the fireplace. The first person I saw was the Prince, who sat on a white love seat, with Snow White curled against him. His arm was draped over her shoulders, his fingers playing gently with her soft hair. In my relief at being in their comforting presence again, I stepped forward and opened my mouth to greet them. I stopped instantly as I realized their eyes never acknowledged my presence – they hadn't noticed my arrival. With a shock, I recognized that this was the Royals' home and, like my time with Charlie, Mom and Phil, I was a silent witness to _their_ Christmas Present – and presents.

Unsettled, I looked around and recognized most of the people here. The Hulk sprawled on a couch, managing to take up three quarters of it. Lana sat on his lap, resting her head against his chest.

A new couple I had never met occupied the armchair beside them. The man was tall and lanky, his blond hair falling elegantly over one eye. His striking good looks and golden eyes revealed him to be another ghost…perhaps the other brother the Hulk had mentioned? He seemed paradoxically both at ease and…watchful…on guard perhaps, as he lounged in the overstuffed armchair, his apparently relaxed posture at odds with the air of danger that surrounded him. A slender young woman with short, dark hair sat on the floor between his legs, resting an arm on each of his knees. She bounced excitedly as if her vibrant energy were about to overflow her small body.

Behind them, Lana stood with her hand resting on the back of the chair… _wait!_ My eyes snapped back to the other Lana, reclining in the Hulk's embrace. She was here twice – wearing the exact same outfit. _Uh, that's confusing_. I looked back and forth between the two trying to determine which was my Here-and-Now-Guide Lana and which was the resident of this vision. I got my answer when the one standing behind the chair glared in irritation at me.

The Hulk chuckled loudly from his position behind my left shoulder, making me jump. _Right. There'd be two of _him_ as well. _That was an intimidating thought.

I blinked at him, both worried and confused.

The Hulk laughed even louder, proving to me yet again how easily people could read my face. "Don't worry, Bells. There's just more of me to love!" Still laughing, he made his way across the room to his own Lana.

"Go on, open it." A melodic voice startled me out of my thoughts of the ghostly doubles. It was the young girl sitting on the floor.

I followed her line of sight and gasped when I saw whom she was addressing. Marley, looking as striking as ever, sat in wing-tipped chair off to the side, in the shadows near the tree.

_How had I missed seeing him?_ I took a moment to study his perfection. Aw, who was I kidding? I couldn't have torn my eyes away from him if the devil himself popped up through the floor to eat me. I was entranced. He was magnificent – magical – even more so as the rainbow lights from the snowflake crystals danced over him.

He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, obviously interested in the activities of his family but also apart from them. A small pile of gifts sat at the foot of his chair; crumpled wrapping lay around him. In his hands, he held another present, perfectly wrapped in paper and velvet ribbon the color of dark chocolate, finished with an elaborate gold bow that would have put Martha Stewart to shame.

He turned the package over in his hands and grinned at the woman who'd spoken to him. "What is it?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Open it and find out." Then she laughed at his intent expression, and wagged her finger at him. "Nope! No cheating. You'll have to open it to find out, cause I'm not _thinking _about it!"

He chuckled and worked the ribbon from the box. The wrapping paper followed the brown velvet to the floor, uncovering a notebook. Its dark blue cover was heavy and ornate. Marley flipped through the oddly lined pages, revealing that they were blank otherwise. Separated into groups, I realized the lines formed a blank music staff – it was a notebook for musical compositions. I stared at him with wide eyes and more than a little sense of intimidation. _Jeez, on top of looking like _that_, Marley writes music as well?_ I took an unconscious step back, my breathing hitching as my own insecurities rose to the surface.

I glanced around the room, suddenly conscious of the other members of this ghostly family. Individually each of them was a vision of absolute perfection, their physical beauty flawless. But as each spirit sat paired off with their mate, their outrageous perfection was somehow magnified. I frowned trying to put my finger on it, to find words to describe what my mind recognized intuitively. Then I saw it – the truth could be sensed in the looks they shared and in their gentle touches. Just as I had observed in Snow White and her Prince, each couple was a perfect fit for each other and the love that shone from them was blinding in its brilliance.

Flinching slightly, I turned away, my gaze falling back upon the solitary Marley.

There was something familiar about the way Marley sat, something that struck a chord in my memory. It took me a moment to realize that his withdrawal from his family's circle reminded me of…me.

Just as I had earlier, in my own home, he sat outside of the circle of couples – a fifth wheel, like me. He…

"Will you start writing again? It feels like forever since you composed a new piece…or even played." The deep sincerity of Snow White's request broke my train of thought. "I'd love to hear you play again."

Marley shrugged and offered his mother a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I don't know. Perhaps." At her disappointed look, he added, "If I get inspired, I'd be happy to write you something new."

The promise seemed to appease her. Her smile returned and she reached up to take the Prince's hand.

"You just need to find your muse," the small fairy-like woman declared.

Marley frowned at her. "My what?"

"Your muse, silly. The one who'll inspire you, and who'll give life to that voice in your heart. The one who'll..."

Marley's contemptuous snort interrupted her.

"Don't laugh!" she warned him sternly. "I know she's out there – I can feel it. And I'm telling you now, you need to be ready for her when she finds you." Deliberately donning a superior grin, she leaned back against the lanky, military-like blond's legs and crossed her arms over her chest. "Cause when she does, she's going to blow your nice orderly world completely apart."

"Thank you for your concern, but believe me, I'm not looking for anyone."

"Yes, I know. _That _would be the problem," she snapped, her tone accusatory.

He chuckled softly, but even I could see it was a front. "Let it go. I'm content."

"You're alone!"

"I like being alone."

The girl's eyes rolled so far back in her head they turned white. Rather than argue, she thumped her husband's knee with her tiny hand like a queen demanding attention and issued an order, "Tell him."

The dangerous blond just chuckled at her antics. "What should I say? You've been telling him for years. He's not listening."

"Enough. I won't have you two dredging up this old argument today." Snow White's voice was hardly soothing as she played peacemaker between her children.

Marley nodded, grateful for the support, though clearly still not agreeing with the young woman.

Undaunted, the girl stuck her tongue out at him.

"Please. It's Christmas. Let's talk about this another time," the Prince said, speaking for the first time.

"Yes, Pleeeaaase!" one of the Lana's groaned. "It's my turn to open a present anyway."

I didn't turn to see which Lana had spoken; my eyes were riveted on Marley and the young woman.

Not quite ready to give up, she turned her nose up and sniffed. "It's not like she's going to come up and bite you,"she murmured.

The Hulk's booming laugh reverberated through the room. "Well, now, that'd be interesting. I love me a woman who bites!"

Marley opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by loud wolf whistle.

I turned sharply, following the sound. The Here-And-Now Hulk removed his fingers from his lips and stared appreciatively at his partner, who'd risen from his lap and was bent over examining the presents remaining under the tree. Her pose was exaggerated to clearly show off her long legs and shapely rear. Hearing her husband's whistle, she twisted to look back at him over her shoulder and smirked seductively.

My spirit-guide Hulk echoed his twin's appreciation. "Oh yeah! Work it, baby!" he yelled exuberantly.

I glanced at my spirit-guide Lana wondering how she'd react to her husband's outburst. If she'd beaten him earlier for making smart-ass comments, I wondered what she'd do to him for ogling another woman.

She was laughing quietly. Her eyes glowed with happiness, showing no trace of jealousy.

_Oh, of course, it's _not_ another woman…it's her. Sort of. This is so confusing!_ I groaned to myself. _Why can't I just have normal dreams – with rainbows and butterflies? Heck, I'd take one of those naked-in-public-dreams over this surreal confusion._

Here-and-Now Lana had retrieved a bright red package from under the tree and sashayed back to the couch like a 1940's film star preparing for her close-up. Lounging seductively on the sofa's armrest, she only lacked a long, black cigarette holder. Every movement she made was controlled and deliberate. Cecil B. DeMille couldn't have asked for a more hypnotic performance.

From his position behind her, my spirit-guide Hulk had a perfect view down her cleavage – a fact that didn't escape him at all. He leaned forward, seeking an even better angle to look down her blouse.

The other Lana moved up behind him and pressed herself against him.

The most startling thing happened – the Hulk squee'd! The big, bad, terrifying spirit actually squealed like a little girl with excitement. Like he was watching a ping-pong match, his head swiveled back and forth, between the visionary Here-and-Now Lana on one side, and his – well, _my_ – spirit-guide Lana on the other. Finally finding his voice, he nearly sobbed, "This is the BEST Christmas EVER!"

_I don't remember this in Dickens' classic!_ I thought. Rolling my eyes and hoping to scourge that horrible image from my mind and memory, I looked back at Marley.

He was also watching Lana unwrap her gift. Like the rest of his family, he was oblivious to the presence – or antics – of my spirit guides. Marley's long hands unconsciously fingered his notebook, opening and closing it repeatedly.

It was his vacant eyes that reminded me of the lecture the little woman had given him.

"Does he find her?" I asked my spirit guides without turning to look at them. Truth was I was a little afraid to look – what if the Hulk was humping Lana's leg? _Ugh, don't think about it. Just don't think about it! _I had to repeat my question three times before he heard me. Finally I dared to look. Reluctantly turning his attention from his harem, he blinked at me. "Who? What?"

I gestured to Marley. "Him. Does he find her? His muse? Tell me." The Hulk sobered instantly. Extracting himself from his wife – no, _wives_ – he stepped towards Marley and me. Just as his mouth opened, a scream of guitars stopped him.

He froze, then slowly turned to the tiny girl on the floor. She was frozen, staring out the windows with her cell phone in her hand.

"Hang on a sec," he grumbled, fishing his own device from his pocket and scanning the message on the screen. "I wasn't going to say _that_!" he said to the girl.

She smiled – could she hear him?

Returning his attention to me, he scratched his chin. "Does he find his muse? Well, Chuck would say something like 'I see him sitting alone – a part yet apart from our family. Incomplete. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, I see my brother alone and unloved as the centuries pass and Eternity unfolds.'"

_Chuck? Oh, Charles...Dickens. _My head drooped with sadness. Marley, sad and alone forever – it was a horrible thought. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

"Shaking it won't help," the Prince said watching Here-and-Now Lana tip her gift back and forth.

My Hulk ignored him. "Unfortunately, the future is not my game. I can only answer for what's true now. At the moment, he makes no effort to change his fate or his future, course he's always been kind of a pansy. Rather than grab life by the horns, he tries to convince himself that he IS happy, content. And it's getting damn irritating, let me tell you."

"Shhh...I can't hear!" Lana scolded.

My throat tightened, and though my eyes stung, I was unable to look away from the beautiful copper-haired spirit. My heart broke to hear his fate.

"But," the Hulk continued, "maybe, since he's unwilling to seek out his muse, his muse will have the ba..." he glanced nervously at Snow White, as if she could hear him, "...nerve to find _him._"

I looked up to find the Hulk smiling smugly at me.

"What is it?" Snow White asked.

Confused – for many reasons – I looked at her and saw her speaking to the Lana scowling into the partially opened gift.

My Lana leaned over her twin's shoulder to look into the box as well.

Thick fog began to pour from the box, spilling over her legs to the floor in huge waves.

A red cardinal ornament on the Christmas tree suddenly came to life, stretched its wings, and sang. The familiar call changed as both bird and song morphed into the shape and sound of an eagle. As it did, the bird grew in size and flew from the tree into the air. The fog swirled in the wake of its passage, unseen by the now frozen ghost family.

"That's not fair! I don't get to see what I get?" Spirit Lana moaned as the fog engulfed us.

"You'll have to wait," the little dark-haired girl sang, stepping toward me. "This is the future, not the present."

*~*~*

* * *

_Endnote:_

_For those of you counting the vampires, er, ghosts in the Cullen house when Bella arrived and didn't come up with eight: Carlisle and Esme (2) + Alice and Jasper (2) + Here-and-Now Emmett and Rosalie (2) + Edward (1) + spirit-guide Rosalie (1) = 8. Spirit-guide Emmett was behind Bella at the time._

_And Emmett got his greatest wish...sandwiched between two Rosalie's!_

_And one last thing: Last chapter we brought you what NoMoreThanUsual has coined (and fantasizes about), 'Fedoraward'. This chapter she brought the wonderful visual of Jasper's finger-able bangs. I'm the one who fantasizes about that, and have dubbed it JaspHair._

_Yes, we are two lonely women...hahahaha!_

_blondie_


	4. Chapter 4: The Last of the Spirits

**A Dickens of a Dream**

Chapter 4: The Last of the Spirits

~*~*~

* * *

The fog settled around us but didn't dissipate. Only the pixie-like girl and her pensive companion remained; everyone else...every _thing_ else was gone.

I rocked on the balls of my feet, not sure what was beneath me. The floor was gone, but something solid was holding us up.

"Clouds?" I guessed.

Tall, blond and brooding squared his shoulders, like he'd been called to attention. Like the other ghosts, he was casually but elegantly dressed, wearing light gray pants with pleats sharp enough to cut paper. His shoes shined, even in the fog. Unlike the others, he wore a matching gray long-sleeved sweater over his white button-down. His collar peeked out of the top, buttoned all the way to his throat.

The only thing that moved was his right eyebrow, rising in a tiny salute.

_Sir yes SIR, _I thought.

"I like it," his opposite sang. And opposite was exactly the right term: her billowy blue teddy top caught the air as she jumped and twirled, while he stood as still as a statue. Her hair was as wild as she was, jet black and poling out in every direction, while his blond was controlled and shaped. She flitted from one puff of fog to another – just like Tinkerbell heading for Never Never Land. The only thing she lacked was fairy wings.

Having been given an unspoken 'at ease,' Major Intensity's mask cracked into a tiny smile. Not in amusement as much as adoration. As if he'd spoken, Tink _pas de chat_'d up to him and snatched his hand. She spun under his fingers, her eyes returning to his with each rotation. Even though he towered over her, her ethereal effervescence seemed to lighten and lift him, while his silent strength guided and grounded her.

Great, another set of star-crossed spirits.

The sight was oddly soothing, though, warming, like I'd woken up under my favorite blanket. I sighed.

"So, are you ready to go?" Tinkerbell asked, ending her dance with a deep bow.

"Um..." _Oh yeah, this is a dream!_ "To the future...right."

Tink stilled, as if in a trance, and Major Silent-And-Spooky raised his arm and pointed to an especially large puff of cloud that obscured the light.

I didn't move. "You're not going to show me my grave, are you? I helped out at the school canned food drive, don't even know anyone named Tim, tiny or otherwise. I don't have anything to repent." _I hope._

"You worry too much, Bella," Tink answered, reanimated. She acted like she'd known me all my life. "Your life seems to be at a crossroads. We're just here to help you see the possible outcomes." Tugging on my arm, she led me toward the tall cloud.

_A crossroads_ – Marley had used that same term. "Do you say that to everyone?"

She faltered, or skipped, I wasn't sure, her feet seemed to blur beneath her. "_He_ told you, didn't he? My brother..." She punctuated her frustration with a roll of her eyes.

I frowned in confusion. Marley was _her_ brother? I thought Marley was the Hulk's brother – as was the Major. Maybe she meant Marley was her brother-_in-law_? My head started to hurt. Where was the dream ibuprofen when I needed it?

Thankfully, Tink's continued chatter effectively interrupted my attempts to sort out their family tree. "Yes, I did tell him the same thing. And before you ask, yes, your crossroads might intersect with his."

"Then why me?" I snapped. "Why am I having this dream? Why don't you go bug _him_?"

Tink giggled. "Because, silly, _he_ doesn't dream." Before I could ponder that strange bit of information, she continued. "And I'm sick of having him ignore my perfectly good advice. So if Mohammed won't go to the mountain…"

"Does that make me...oh, never mind." Mohammed had nothing to do with whether I stayed in Scottsdale or not. "Just so long as there's no coffins or headstones."

"No, of course..." Tinkerbell froze for a second as the haze swirled up between us and she seemed to stare right through me. Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. "Oh. When... Oh!" Her face paled to the point it became indistinguishable from the fog.

Major Concern appeared out of nowhere and wrapped his arm around her, his chiseled face an inch from hers. Just when I thought he would speak, Tink blinked and gave him a peck on the cheek. She spoke – or hummed, I wasn't sure – something to him. I only caught one word: cremated.

_Cremated? _

"Nope, no cemeteries." Tinkerbell's smile was just a little too sweet. "Shall we?" she said dragging the Major into the thick fog.

With a sigh, I followed them into the haze.

For a tense moment I felt like I was falling, and flailed around for something to hold on to. A cold hand caught mine just as my toes touched something soft. Carpet. The clouds suddenly blew away and a room was revealed. A couch and TV were the only furniture; to the side was a tiny kitchen. The counters were also bare but for a phone and a newspaper.

A phone rang, and I jumped. I startled again when another me – an old me – appeared and answered it.

"How old am I?" I croaked, seeing the tiny lines running around Old-Future Me's eyes and across my forehead. A cemetery would have been less shocking.

Tink tilted her head, regarding my doppelganger. "Only twenty. I'd hardly call that old," she scolded.

We'd gone only three years into the future and I already looked like my mother's sister rather than her daughter? _This is now officially a nightmare._

"Hi Mom," Old-Future Me said into the receiver. "Merry Christmas."

Peeking out a window trimmed with what appeared to be recycled sheets, I spied a familiar rocky landmark.

"We're in Arizona? Tempe?" Attending Arizona State University had been one option I'd been considering.

"You'd know better than I would," Tink said with one of those inside-joke kind of grins.

Old-Future Me chewed a fingernail as she spoke. "Yes, Mom, I figured Santa would know I was coming over to your house today." She puffed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I'm walking out the door. See you soon."

The phone clunked into its charger, and Old-Future Me retrieved her purse and sweater from the closet and banged the door shut on her way out.

"I hope Santa brought her a dress or two," Tink said with a huff. Apparently the Old-Future Me's jeans and plain blouse didn't meet with her approval. Then as if suddenly remembering my current outfit, her eyes slid over my ratty t-shirt and sweat pants. She arched an eyebrow when her gaze reached my new dressing gown.

I wanted to shoot her a glare, but she'd already changed gears and was bouncing around the room. "Your apartment is very...clean," she said carefully.

Sparse was more like it, but I didn't comment. I'd never thought much about college other than to get good enough grades to get into one, but even I was surprised at the lack of personal touches, the subtle signs that revealed an occupant's personality and interests. 'Stark' or even 'lifeless' might have been better words to describe this apartment.

"Does my mom still live in the same house?" I asked, if only to avoid more questions about this dull place.

"Yes, she does. Phil's stint in the minors didn't last long. He missed your mom and..."

I held up my hand. "All right, I see where this is going. He missed her because she stayed home with me and gave up his baseball ambitions. If I'd gone to live with my father, he would have been super-successful and they would have lived happily ever after." Forget Tiny Tim, I had Foul-ball Phil.

"Neither Phil nor your mother is unhappy, Bella." Major Silent-But-Deadly spoke! I jumped, ready to drop and do twenty.

I reached for something to steady myself against. Tinkerbell caught my flailing hand. "Breathe, Bella," she said, "We're not real, remember?"

Her airy laugh rang in my ears as I took her advice and I filled my lungs. "Mom's happy?"

The Major's amber eyes bore into mine, but rather than fear, I was filled with a soothing calm as he spoke. "Yes. Phil teaches and coaches at your old high school. Your mother continues to search for her calling...her latest endeavor is making fuel from used vegetable oil."

Tink nodded her head almost violently. "It'll be really big in a few years."

Mom would no doubt be bored with it before she was successful. Some things never changed. Or would they? "If I decide to leave, would this future change?" I asked.

Tink got that zoned-out look for a second, but Major Over-Protective didn't move this time. "Not much. They're somewhere else sunny, but they're still together and content."

I frowned. "But if they're happy either way, how am I supposed to decide?"

"Not every question has a right and a wrong answer, Bella." I didn't notice the white smoke surrounding us until it reached Tink's microscopic waist. "Maybe Charlie will have more insight for you."

The floor dropped out beneath us again and we descended through the mist. By the time I got my heart restarted, we'd landed in the middle of Charlie's living room.

It was empty. As in vacant. No TV covered in dust, no thread-bare couch, no side table littered with lures and hooks. And no pictures graced the mantle. I peeked out the window and saw a white post with a sign hanging from it in the middle of the grass. A 'For Sale' sign. Perched on the post was a huge bird with a hooked beak – the damned eagle.

I started to tremble. Charlie had lived in this house forever...the only reason it'd be for sale would be if he'd...

"Hmmm, this isn't what I expected," Tink said, looking around the room and biting her lower lip. The abandoned condition of Charlie's house was clearly an unexpected surprise.

Her nervous reaction ignited my own burgeoning fears. I took her by the shoulders. "What year is this? Where's Charlie?" My voice rose in pitch and I tried to shake her. "Is _he_ dead?"

Major You'd-Better-Let-Go-Of-My-Woman-Right-Now pried me off Tinkerbell and took her across the room between heartbeats.

"Something's wrong." He peered into Tink's far-off expression. "What did you see?"

She blinked several times, then tried again. "I can't see where he..."

Her explanation was interrupted by a police cruiser turning into the driveway. My gray-haired father stepped out and shuffled around the car.

Forgetting where I was, I cried, "Dad! Thank God, you're all right!" The door opened before I could get to it, and I almost ran into an equally aged dark-skinned woman.

"Want to check out your room one last time, Bella?" she said over her shoulder.

I gasped, seeing an even older future me following her. I barely stifled a moan, seeing the glasses perched on the bridge of my ancient self's nose. "Sure. Once more for old time's sake."

"You know we wouldn't sell this place if you wanted it, Bells," Charlie said, right on Ancient-Future Me's heels.

"No thanks, Dad. I've got a job."

"You can be a librarian anywhere, Sis."

I nearly leapt out of my clothes at the sight of the guy bringing up the rear of the little parade. He was huge – even bigger than the Hulk! But his face was young, almost boyish. His jet-black hair and equally black eyes matched those of the woman now wrapped around Charlie – her son, perhaps?

"Who is he?" I looked to Tink, then the Major, but they only shrugged. They were as mystified as I was. The feeling of unease rolling off both of them was palpable. _Just how bad _is_ it when your spirit guides look confused about what's going on? _

"Seth, leave your sister alone," Charlie scolded.

A sparkle of gold around my dad's left ring finger caught my eye.

"He remarried?" I couldn't believe it.

"Apparently." Major Obvious moved to stand behind Tinkerbell. He gazed down at his golden-eyed companion, and she shivered, even though she couldn't see him. His hands came up to cup her shoulders. She continued to stare at my new step-brother with a deep frown of concentration. Ancient-Future Me stumbled up the stairs alone while the others milled around and made comments about how Charlie'd finally cleaned.

The shock finally wore off and I wheeled on Tink. "Is this the future where I stay in Arizona or come to Forks?" I demanded.

"Well, I was trying to see what would happen if you stuck with your plan to stay with your mom."

"So what if I move in with Charlie? Can you see _that_?" I took a step toward her, but ran into the Major.

"Why don't you try," he suggested gently over his shoulder, "to see Charlie if Bella came to live with him." His eyes didn't leave me.

Tink spaced out, and wisps of fog crept in through the doors, but then got sucked back out. The only thing that changed was that Ancient-Future Me was wearing a black skirt instead of black slacks when she came back down the stairs.

"That's an improvement, at least," Tink mumbled.

"Nothing else changed? What kind of a nightmare is this?" I paced around Charlie and his new wife, but avoided the monstrous Seth.

"I'm not sure, Bella," Tink said with a sigh. "There's something weird about these people. When you're with them, your future is...invisible."

I'd wanted to be invisible before, it seemed I'd managed to achieve that goal, at least. I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose.

Tink's burst of laughter startled me. "Oh, you're perfect for him, alright!" She giggled in delight. Even Major Serious chuckled quietly. The tension in the room lifted immediately.

Tink stepped forward until she stood directly in front of her Major. "See? I told you, didn't I? It's a sign." She grinned in ferocious excitement. "They're meant for each other." He smiled gently in acknowledgement but remained silent. She stood on her toes and he bent slightly towards her. They stood, neither speaking nor touching, locked in each other's loving gaze. Their intimacy crackled in the air like electricity, sending a shiver through me.

It was the ogre of a boy who ended the moment when he whipped the front door open and banged it against the wall. "Great, that's done. Let's go. Jake and Nessie are expecting us."

"Don't call her that," his mother said, slapping his arm.

"He does."

"She's his wife, he's allowed. We call her Vanessa, just like everyone else, right honey-bear?" She gave Charlie a quick kiss on the cheek.

Seth and Ancient Me copied the gagging sound I made, hearing the woman's pet name for my father.

"Please, can we get out of here? If I can't change this, there's no point in staying." I glanced out the window, only to see Ancient Me picking a gray feather out of her hair. At least the phantom bird who'd been haunting my dreams hadn't crapped on me…her…er,me.

"At least he's happy," Major Optimism said, staring at my father. "They both are. You may have to get used to having a new mother, and a brother, but Charlie's finally content. _Nothing is past hope, if such a miracle has happened._**"**

Looking out the window, I watched my father hold the cruiser's doors open for both his wife and me before zooming off. I saw my _step-brother_ bouncing in the seat until the flashing lights came on. A loud "WOO HOO" echoed down the street as they sped away.

_Good God, I would have a twenty-five year old toddler for a brother? No matter what? _

"So what you're saying is that whether I live in Phoenix or in Forks, my parents will be happy in any case. That really isn't helpful."

Tink slipped an arm around me. "It's not where you live, Bella. It's _how_ you live. The Future Bella's you've seen may have chosen different places to live, but their lives are all the same. They didn't take any chances or try anything new. Instead, they hid from the world around them. It may be harder to vanish in a small town like Forks than a city like Phoenix, but this future demonstrates that you'll manage to find a way."

My hands clenched at my sides. What kind of dream was this anyway? Not only was I frustrated when I was awake, now I was frustrated when I was asleep?

_Wake up...wake up..._I pinched my arm, then my cheek_...wake up...WAKE UP!_

Like a plug had been pulled out of my sink-full of irritation, it drained away, leaving me strangely relaxed.

"You'll just give yourself a bruise, Bella." Major Bipolar put a tentative hand on my shoulder. "Life is made of a tapestry of decisions. Some are more important than others in the grand scheme. The real decision you have to make is whether or not you take your mom's advice to truly spread your wings. Unless you look outside the insulated world you've created, you'll miss your true future."

Prepared this time, I tightened my grip on Tinkerbell. We glided sideways this time, returning to the cloudy heaven we'd started from.

"He's right, Bella." Tink waved her hand and a wall of gray squares, like stacked televisions, appeared in front of her. "Maybe this will help."

She pointed to one in the center and it came to life, showing me asleep in my bed – my bed in Scottsdale. "Here you are now, dreaming. Let's look ahead three weeks, to say, January 18th."

Two squares lit up, one showing my high school, one showing a different set of red-brick buildings. "Did you pick that date at random?" I asked, suspicious. It was right after finals, I was pretty sure.

"Maybe?" she said, winking at the Major. "So the first choice is where you'll be living on that day, or rather, which school you'll be attending." In both screens, I appeared in a hallway lined with lockers, one with masses of people clogging the aisle, one with only a few students giving me the evil eye. In both images I wore the same jeans...Forks Me was wrapped in a parka while Scottsdale Me sported a light sweater.

"You also have choices on what to wear that day," Tink added. I didn't miss the scorn in her voice.

Several more screen/window things flickered to life. In each I wore jeans; in some, the jacket or sweater was over my arm, revealing a different, plain top or t-shirt.

"Don't you own anything besides t-shirts and jeans?" Tink growled.

"No. What's that?" I pointed to a square in the middle that looked like a TV on the fritz.

The Major's deep voice made the wall vibrate. "That is random chance. It only comes on when a snap decision is made – if you happen to turn into the path of a drunk driver, for example."

"So no picture is a good thing then?" I asked, a clammy chill running down my back.

"Definitely."

Tink huffed. "Don't worry about it, Bella, there's usually nothing you can do about it anyway. So where were we? Oh yes, your wardrobe." I groaned, but she ignored me. "You'll also choose things to eat – even those little decisions can matter." The images changed again, showing different versions of me in a lunchroom. The images on the left showed the cafeteria I was familiar with: long tables and trays filled with tortillas and burritos. In all of them, I sat in the far corner of the cafeteria, away from everyone else and ate alone.

The pictures on the right were almost the same, except the Mexican food was replaced with something resembling meatloaf or maybe stew, and the tables were round. The cafeteria in Forks wasn't nearly as large, but I still sat in the far corner in most of the images.

"This is one place you can make a change," Tink said, pointing at a picture directly over my head. "You could actually talk to someone." In this little vignette, I sat in the middle of the Forks cafeteria with a group of kids, and actually conversed with a girl with dark curly hair.

"Yeah, so, I made a...an acquaintance. I do have friends at home."

Major Who-Are-You-Kidding coughed behind me, seeing through my lie.

"Riiiight," Tink said. "But watch."

The 'social' version of Forks Me looked across the cafeteria then asked the girl something. The view shifted, and I saw Marley and his siblings sitting at a different round table across the room.

"He's in Forks? But...he's a ghost! _You're_ ghosts..._NO WAY_!" I sputtered.

Tinkerbell lived up to her name, her laugh ringing out like a delicate set of wind chimes. "Hey, I just call them as I see them. But whether your dream guy is alive...or not...you'll never find him sitting in the corner."

I stared at Marley's perfect profile as he glared at me from the future-window. "What about him? You said he has decisions to make, too. What if he doesn't want anything to do with me?"

"I wouldn't worry about that, Bella, but we can peek." She spun around, and another set of gray squares appeared, complete with the snowy one in the middle. Only one other one came on, showing the same Marley scowling at me.

Tink looked like the cat who'd swallowed the canary. "Let's move ahead just a bit."

The screen changed, and Marley was now sitting at a black table like the ones in the science lab at my school. Which school was it? His brow creased in concentration, and then I appeared in the doorway of the classroom.

"Oh, look, there's only one seat available," Tink said smugly, pointing at the blank space next to Marley.

Forks Me – I think – took one step into the room, and suddenly screens all around us lit up, including the 'random chance' screen of death. Most of the images were fuzzy, just like it.

Tink jumped back, her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh no..."

I ran my eyes across row after row of blurry pictures, most of them featuring a mass of bodies littering the science lab. In almost everyone, Marley held my unconscious body in his arms – and the tingling I'd felt in his presence crept over me.

Tink seemed to be sobbing next to me, though I didn't see any tears in her eyes.

"Look, look at that one," the Major said suddenly, pointing at a screen to the far right that showed Marley lying perfectly still, as white as the snow around him. "And there, that one."

The second screen he pointed out had both Tink and me in shock. I recognized the white furniture and white walls of the ghost family's home. Under the mistletoe stood a couple locked in a lovers' embrace. Marley's copper hair nearly reached the green and white bundle hanging from the ceiling, calling to my fingers. But it was the girl in his arms that froze me in my tracks.

I easily recognized the long, brown hair...and the clothes – this version of me wore the same outfit she had in both the other incarnations of the future. But she wasn't me...her skin glowed like polished alabaster, and her lips were full and red. As if called, she turned and looked right through me.

Her eyes..._my_ eyes...I was a ghost too?

"I'm...uh...she's...a..." I couldn't say it.

"Surprising, isn't it?" Major Superiority smirked. "There's another one."

Wild flowers filled the screen around Marley. As if he wasn't the most amazing creature I'd ever seen before, in this light his skin came alive, reflecting and refracting rainbows like he was a living, breathing diamond. I was reminded of the spectrum cast by the snowflake prisms of the Royals' tree, but this was no trick of refraction – Marley himself glowed!

"I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life," I whispered. I squinted, trying to see if I was there, somewhere, in the blur next to him, but I could only make out a hazy shadow.

The screens suddenly winked off when a buzz emanated from the Major. One did come back on, and Marley appeared, a phone at his ear.

"Yes, Brother?" the Major said, staring at the one-sided video.

Marley spoke before the Major had finished. "Where did you disappear to? We weren't even done presents. You-know-who is getting a little impatient."

I lifted my hand to the eye-level screen, wishing the cold glass that met my touch was really Marley's skin.

Marley nodded _before_ Tink answered.

"We're heading home," Tink said. How had Marley heard her?

The screen winked off and it, and all the others, disappeared into the clouds. "Will _he_ have a happy future no matter what?" I knew nothing about him, but felt in my heart he deserved nothing but happiness.

In an instant Tinkerbell had me pinned in a tight hug. "I think that might depend on you." She let go of me just as fast and took the Major's arm. My worry seemed to dissolve into unreasonably strong hope.

"Which future becomes reality, is up to you, Bella," Tinkerbell said, her voice fading away as the fog devoured her.

"Will I meet Marley no matter what I choose?" I asked suddenly.

A deep laugh echoed through the clouds as the sky darkened. "Marley? _Jacob_ Marley? Is that what you call him?" A musical, high-pitched giggle joined in, becoming louder.

Not laughter, but a bell. Tingling...ringing...jingling? A bell?

The fog swallowed the sound, and my eyes were suddenly too heavy to remain open. Alone, and in the dark, my mind finally quieted. A contented peace filled me, erasing whatever craziness my subconscious had conjured up. Only one thing nagged. I needed to remember something...about a bell? No, not a bell, but...

"Bella...Bella!"

"Mom?" but the word was garbled. Had I said it?

I peeled my eyes open to find my mother perched on the edge of my bed. "Huh? Where am I?" I had that sinking feeling in my stomach that I'd forgotten something – or someone – important.

"Wake up sweetheart, it's Christmas!"

~*~*~

* * *

**Endnote:**

_**NoMoreThanUsual:**__ Blondie and I had a little debate over the choice for JaspHair's clothing. Hahaha At one point we decided it would be easier . . . yeah 'easier' LOL . . . to just have him naked. Naked JaspHair?! How can you go wrong?!! But we finally decided having him naked would be too distracting to the authors . . . er I mean, to the story. Hahaha_

_I hope you're enjoying our little story too. Did Alice and JaspHair help to make more sense of Bella's dream and of the choice she needs to make?_

_Just one chapter left. It's mostly written and will be up soon. Thanks for reading. Please let us know what you think, even if it's just whether or not we were right to dress Jasper. LOL_

_**Blondie**__: __Sorry for this commercial interruption, but..._

_On the off chance you haven't heard, the nominations for the Eddies and Bellies are up. Voting begins around February 1, and if you're so inclined, a couple of my fics are on the list. Up for "Short Fiction" is my one-shot, Seduction, for "Novel, Canon or AU" is Dark Side of the Moon. DSotM is also up for a Bellie – "Best Missing Moment (Canon Award)". I'd appreciate your support – and hope to have an outtake from Dark Side of the Moon up before voting ends._

_End of the pimpage!_

_One other note about our Dickens tale...one aspect of Bella's dream world is that the sense of smell is neutralized. That's why Marley didn't stress around her, and why Tink and the Major couldn't smell the wolves. Hey, as Tinkerbell says, none of it's real, right?_


	5. Chapter 5: The End of It

Author's Note:

_**NoMoreThanUsual:**__ Thank you to all of you who left reviews. You guys rock! I've had so much fun in writing this story. I hope you all enjoyed it as much too. :o) _

_With pleasure, here's the 5__th__ and final chapter..._

**_*~*~*_**

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**A Dickens of a Dream**

**Chapter 5: The End of It**

**.  
**

"What time is it?" I yawned and stretched.

"It's eight, sleepyhead! Don't you want to see what you got from Santa?"

The feeling of déjà vu disappeared as I followed Mom into the living room, where Phil sat patiently waiting for us.

Mom directed me to sit by the tree to hand out the brightly colored boxes and we took turns unwrapping them. I started with my father's present to me and was pleasantly surprised by Dad's choice this year – a new CD player. Laying it carefully beside me while taking a quick mental inventory of my CD collection, I read the next gift tag and handed the small green package to Phil.

My mother bounced in her seat with excitement at each new Santa gift – it didn't matter at all who received it – she greeted each one we opened with the same childlike delight.

It wasn't until I reached for the red and white gift covered with 'Ho Ho Ho' that I felt the tinglings of memory, just out of reach.

"Go on, Bella. Open the last one. What else did Santa give you?" Mom asked, trembling with excitement.

"Um, ok."

After fumbling awkwardly to open the wrapping paper without ripping it, I finally got it open, uninjured. I could feel Phil's amused eyes on me the entire time, inviting me to join him in joke we shared, both of us equally amused and frustrated by my mother's totalitarian control of the fate of gift wrap.

I didn't dare look at him. My laughter would be unavoidable and I didn't want to hurt my mother by laughing at one of her few actual "rules."

As the wrap fell away, I could see I held a dark blue book. A dove with outstretched wings graced the cover. The words looked oddly familiar as I read "Inspirational Quotes" in large red type. Smaller black lettering beneath elaborated: "On inspiring yourself and becoming your own muse."

No, that was wrong. There was something incorrect with that, something that I couldn't put my finger on. The feeling of déjà vu washed over me, coupled this time with a feeling of wrongness. Something was off. I read it silently to myself again: _On inspiring yourself and becoming your own muse…becoming your own muse…_

It was from my dream. What had I dreamt about muses? Was it…?

My mother's excited voice interrupted my thoughts and the memory vanished like fog in the morning sun. "Oh! What a coincidence! It looks like Santa and I were on the same wavelength. Look, we were both thinking about my little girl growing up and stretching her wings.

I suppressed my frustration at the timing of her interruption – I'd been so close to remembering.

Looking up into her excited eyes, I instantly forgave her and laughed gently at her expression. "Thanks, Mom . . .er, I mean, thanks, Santa."

I squirmed, watching Phil and Renée cuddle. Pancakes flashed through my mind and I beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. Shortly after taking out the ingredients and the griddle, the phone rang.

"I got it," I called toward the family room.

"Hey, Bells, did I wake you?" Charlie sounded excited, not even letting me get a "Hello" out.

"How'd you know it was me, Dad?"

He laughed. "Renée only answers the phone if you're not home, and I was pretty sure you'd be around this morning. Merry Christmas, honey."

Hearing Charlie's voice sent a chill up my back. He was all alone...like me.

"Merry Christmas, Dad."

We chatted about gifts and plans for the day, but my heart wasn't in the conversation. A giggle came from the family room, and the crazy idea I'd had last night didn't seem so crazy anymore.

"...I should let you get back to Renée," Dad was saying, preparing to end the call.

Like rising mist, an echo of my dream last night wafted through my mind…a woman's voice, high and musical, saying_ "Your life seems to be at a crossroads…" _Closing my eyes to concentrate, I could hear the woman – or was it a girl? – whisper,_ "Which future becomes reality, is up to you, Bella."_ Desperately, I struggled to grasp the thought and to remember the rest of my dream, but like the fog I'd just compared it to, the memory proved intangible and slipped away.

"Dad, wait." I took a breath. Wet, cold Forks for a year and a half? _Choices, invisible, destiny..._

"_Trust yourself," _This time the imagined voice was a man's.

There wasn't really a choice, though was there? Both Renée and Charlie would be happier if I moved.

"_All of life is a choice – every day, every moment..."_ Was I imagining these voices or was I remembering them?

"What is it, Bells? Is something wrong?"

Decision made, calm filled me. "No, nothing's wrong. Dad, can I ask you for a favor?"

"Anything, Bells, you know that."

"Well..." I realized that I'd never really asked Charlie for anything before. The phone shook in my hand as my nerves woke up. "I told you that Phil's leaving soon for training in Florida, right?"

Charlie sighed. "If you want to go, too, it's okay," he said. The defeat in his voice took residence in my throat as a huge lump. He really missed me.

"No, that's not what I was going to ask. I was wondering...if it wouldn't be too much trouble...ifIcametolivewithyou."

At first I wasn't sure he understood the rush of words. "Bella," he said, the word coming out like a gravelly cough.

I hadn't considered that he might say "no," and had opened my mouth to say "forget it" when he continued.

"Of course you can stay with me. That's the best Christmas present you could have given me." I heard a soft hiss and then Charlie blew his nose. "I love you, Bells."

"I love you, too, Dad," I replied, my voice cracking. The silence that followed wasn't awkward, but after half a minute, we talked over each other, ending it.

"I should tell Mom," I said at the same time as Charlie's "I'll have your room ready." We both chuckled.

Another odd thought: _"We thought you'd like to see your father again."_

"I have finals in a couple weeks and could come after that – in the middle of January. Is that too soon?" I tried to sound enthusiastic, but remembered that Forks was susceptible to snow in the winter. I didn't have much of a winter jacket...or boots...

I was about to change my mind and offer to come in March, but Charlie's enraptured reply sealed my fate.

"That's _perfect_, Bella. And if you need anything, anything at all, let me know." He stopped abruptly, probably realizing how eager he sounded. "Ahem, not that you need my help, or anything," he finished.

"Thanks, Dad, I'll let you know. I'll call you once I get everything arranged with Mom, okay?"

Another pause, but he didn't ask what Mom thought of my plan. "Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart," he said.

After a quick thank you I hung up. Now that Charlie'd agreed to my hair-brained plan, I had to convince Mom.

I picked up the eagle dancer and looked it over one last time. She'd wanted me to spread my wings...

"_Unless you look outside the insulated world you've created, you'll miss your true future." _A whisper of memory slid through my mind.

I shook my head. Wasn't that written in one of the fortune cookies from night before last? It didn't matter – the future was now set.

"Mom," I called, warning her and Phil that I was coming in.

They pushed away from each other, like high schoolers caught kissing in class. "What is it, Bella?" Mom asked, her cheeks pinking.

"I have one last...present to give you," I said, nearly stuttering.

Renée sat up straight and clapped her hands. "Really? What is it?"

Phil snorted.

I handed her the kachina doll she'd given me.

"Bella? What, you don't like it?" Mom's face fell.

"No, it's not that. I'm taking your gift to heart." I swallowed. She could prevent me from going, if she wanted. "You said you wanted me to spread my wings, right?"

"Yeees," she said, her eyes tightening.

I cleared my throat. "I know how much you're going to miss Phil when he leaves, and I was thinking that you should go with him."

Mom frowned. "But Bella, we've talked about this. I can't leave you here alone, baby."

"I won't be alone." I looked down at my feet. "I could go live with Charlie."

Renée gasped. "Charlie?"

Phil tried to hide his smile – this was as much a gift for him as for Mom. "Bella, we don't want to impose on your father," he said graciously.

"I already asked him, he's fine with it."

Renée's eyes welled. "Bella, it's no trouble..."

"Mom, stop." I took deep breath and sat down next to her. "You know that this is the best thing for everyone. You can travel wherever Phil goes and I can spend some quality time with Dad." I took her hand. "Please?"

She looked at Phil, who nodded. "Are you sure, Bella? You hate Forks."

"I'm sure." I was proud that my voice didn't shake.

She squeezed my fingers. "Okay, we'll try it. But if it doesn't work out, you call me. We'll always have a room for you, whether here or Florida, or wherever, kay?"

"Deal."

A completely random _"Are we done here?"_ echoed through my brain.

Mom wrapped her arms around me, and Phil reached around her to put his hand on my shoulder. "Thank you, Bella. The kids in Forks don't know how lucky they are," he said.

"I doubt they'll even notice me. I'm invisible," I mumbled.

Mom kissed my cheek. "Nonsense. A person would have to be blind, deaf, and dumb to not recognize you as an angel."

The feeling of déjà vu smothered me. Who'd said that to me before? Why did I both ache and rejoice at hearing it? In answer, I recalled a different quote, one I knew.

"_His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him."_

Maybe Dickens had it right. Seeing and hearing my parents happy made me want to laugh. Maybe that would be quite enough for me.

I hoped so. Rainy Forks didn't have much else to offer.

* * *

Two weeks, three shopping trips and fourteen thousand sticky notes later, I was ready to go.

_My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix..._

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* * *

  
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**End Note:**

**blondie:** I have loved playing with our beloved twilight characters in this fantastical little sandbox! No, Bella doesn't remember any more of the dream, but subconsciously she does manage to take that little step forward and talk to Jessica her first day at Forks.

At least, that's the way I see it. It really all was just a dream! 8-D

Thank you to everyone for reading, and for all the wonderful reviews! Replying to reviews hasn't been easy, so please know we both read them all and forward them to each other, usually giggling!

One last note: at the behest of my partner in crime, I'm reminding you that the voting for the Eddies and Bellies is still open. If you're a canon Edward fan, check out my entries, Dark Side of the Moon and Seduction. And vote, if you're so inclined.

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